Getting back the Pearl
by Tozi
Summary: Ten years passed since Jack got The Hat. Ten years passed since Kurt left his family in Georgetown. Ten years sailing around the world to recover the most amazing ship that ever sailed the seas, the Black Pearl. 'Course, nothing's ever that easy.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Back again for a new story. This is the sequel to "The Hat". Better read (and review, lol) that before. It's not even that long or complicated...

Again, I'd like to point out how much I owe to Karibbean for her corrective work. (Thank you thank you _thank you!_) she's so nice to read over my shoulder sometimes, and tell me to watch out for some mistakes or any other...

I have a few words before we start with the story, but first:

_IownnothingofPOTC,characternorevent,noprofitisbeingmadeoutofthisstoryotherthanafewreviews,thankyouverymuchindeed._

Now, that's said, we can go on.

Please, remember that Jack and Kurt met just after Jack was mutinied on, and that ten years passed ever since. Kurt is twenty two years old.

Enjoy!

* * *

« Whot ?

- I said, go sav' 'er.

- And why me, pray tell ?

- Because Mister Prid'o' the Royal Navy here can't swim.

- But you can.

- I'm the Cap'n here, mate.

- Blast it. »

The young man to whom the first voice belonged to started to disvest quickly, putting his hat, coat, belt and shoulder strap in his companion's extended arms. « I can't believe you're expecting me to fly off to the rescue of some crazy cliff-jumping lass, Jack.

- You're right, I don' expect you to fly. Just swim. »

With a muttered curse, the young man dove expertly into the water, and started swimming steadily toward the cliff. It was not too far away, but there were some waves due to the great rocks. Nonetheless he pressed on to find the poor girl as he was sure that the girl that had fallen down would not mind any minute less she spent without breathing fresh air. On the docked ship, his companion was observing him intently, ready to help if there was any danger. When he saw the man went under again to retrieve the lady, he clutched the scabbard more closely to his chest.

As the younger man made it back to the dock, his captain hurried down the gangway closely followed by the two guards the pair had been entertaining before the whole commotion erupted. He grabbed the girl under the arm, and hoisted her quickly out of the water, letting the guards take further care of her. Then he grabbed the young man's hand and helped him make it to the quay. The guard examining the girl cried out. « She's not breathing ! »

Jack made sure his subordinate was alright « You aw'right Kurt ? Yes ? Speak louder mate. » , and skittled to the side of the young woman – a girl, really – and diagnosed the problem. He took out his knife and quickly ripped the tightly laced corset off her ribs. She took a deep intake of air, and turned to the side to cought out the water she had swallowed. Kurt laid unmoving beside the water, breathing deeply himself and groaning softly in both annoyance and fatigue. The captain glanced at him and chuckled softly, before turning back to the girl. A golden flash caught his eye, and before the guard could react, reached for the girl's bosom and took hold of a wide ornated pendant the girl had been hiding beneath her clothes.

He frowned slightly and knuttled his brow in worry. « Where did you get that ? »

Before she could answer, the shiny tip of a well sharpened sword pointed under his nose, along with a cool voice saying, « Get off of her. »

The captain raised his hands in a appeasing manner, and rose slowly, catching the eyes of the military officer with his and keeping contact. He bowed his head to the side, and put on the most innocent face a man could manage. The younger man laying on the dock patted one of the soldier's legs and said moodily, « Give a hand here. » The soldier gave him his hand, and Kurt pulled himself up. He closed up to his captain, and observed the sword, from pointy tip to handle and then the man who held said sword. He shared a look with the older man, and said in a off hand manner, « Nice sword. » The captain readily nodded his head, and said in a very serious manner, « I was 'bout to say that. »

A middle aged man came up running, quite out of breath, and helped the girl up. He lend her his coat to cover herself, and glanced around. He caught the sight of one of the soldiers holding up the ruined corset, and glared. The soldier gulped, put own the item, silently pointed a finger at the foreign man and his companion. The wigged man huffed up, and nosily turned to the officer holding the captain at the tip of his sword, « Shoot them. »

Both men rolled their eyes, and the girl gulped. She stood forward and pleaded. « Please, Commodor, would you shoot my rescuers ? » The commodor's face evidently showed he was seriously considering that option. But the wide pleading eyes of the young girl finally won him over, and he lowered his sword. Both « rescuers » internally smirked.

The commodor then offered his hand to the captain, and said snotily, « I suppose, then, that thanks are in order. »

Kurt observed Jack as he was observing the extended hand. Jack did not like physical contact with others, especially people he did not know. His captain hesitated, but took the hand nonetheless.

That peculiar move set everything into action. Of course, neither of the men knew that at the time.

The commodor pulled the hand he was friendly holding and uncovered the tanned arm. There was an angry red brand there, under an old fading tatoo figuring a small bird flying happily over the sea. The commodor smirked and tightened his hold around the hand. The soldiers and bystanders shuddered and took a step back. « Did you have a brush with the East India Trading Company ? …Jack Sparrow ? »

Jack Sparrow had a friendly smile, and kept shaking the commodor's hand happily. « Captain. It's Captain Jack Sparrow. If you don' min'. » The commodor called for irons, and turned to the captain's companion. « I believe we have not been introduced, mister… ?

- Adriamson. Kurt Adriamson. Call me Mr. Adriamson, if you please. »

The commodor sighed and motioned to his men to have them surrounded. His subordinate produced irons as if he were always carrying some around on his person, and started on Sparrow's wrist. The pirate sighed and tapped his feet in impatience. Another soldier took the other pair of shackles, and quickly shut them over the thick wrists of the younger man. The commodor stood beside them, and looked over Kurt, fom his feet to his head. Kurt smirked.

« I'm six feet and seven inches tall, if that's what you're wondering about. I also weight over a hundred and eighty pounds, and I speak five languages fluently, and I am struggling a bit over my cantonese.

- He likes spicy foods an' whisky. I've tried to clean him of 'at bad habit, for rum's the best, but he keeps gettin' back to it, » said Sparrow in a confidential tone. Kurt chuckled. The commodor rolled his eyes. « You are certainly the worst pirates I have ever met.

- At least you'll remember us. We certainly won't remember you. » Kurt outright laughed at Jack's joke.

The young girl strolled forward, indignant. « Commodor, you can't hang those men ! They rescued me ! » Before the Commodor could answer, Kurt shouted from over his shoulder. « Hey ! I did the job ! He only undressed you ! That doesn't count as heroic, does it ? » The commodor's eyes glinted with fury. And he coolly replied to the girl. « Miss Elizabeth, one good action does not abide a whole life of misdeeds.

- But it seems to be enough to hang a man.

- That it does, Sparrow.

- Captain, please. Captain Sparrow. » Jack said to the commodore before looking to the officer who could not seem to figure out how the irons work, saying, « Man, can't you get any slower ? » Kurt reached over, and clasped the irons himself. Jack smiled, and said softly. « Thanks. ».

He then jumped to the side, throwing the iron's chain over the girls head.

« Well, now, all nice here. You woul'n' wan' me to strangle Miss Wiggy-Head's daughter- dearest would you ? Elizabeth was it ?

- That's Miss Swann to you ! screamed the commodor.

- Now, now, all nice I said. My effects, please, » said Jack, motioning to his weapons, hat and coat he had been stripped of. « Don' min' the coat, don' forget me hat ! »

The commodor gave the bundle to Elizabeth, and Jack instantly reached for the gun that conveniently sat on the top. He turned the girl around in between his arms, and gave her a shiny smile. « Now, darlin', if you'd min'… »

The girl scowled and firmly sat the battered hat on top of the pirate's head, and proceeded to fit his belt and wide shoulder strap. She gave a strong jerk to tighten the belt, and Jack ooh-ed as it settled a bit low on his hips. « Careful on me goods, there, darlin'.

Don't mind what he tells you, Miss, make sure he can't reproduce ! » laughed Kurt. Jack laughed back, and made the girl turn again.

He took a few steps back, saying smartly. « And now, gentlemen, you will remember this day as the day where you almost captured Captain Jack Sparrow. You've got Kurt, so you won't be too sad. He's great company, I assure you. » And he threw the girl forward in the surprised arms of the soldiers that were advancing on them, grabbed a loading rope and flew off over the lower part of the digue.

Running away while holding the heavy irons in front of him was a difficult task, but Jack was almost used to it by now. He could recognize any iron by it's weight. French, English, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch…English were ones of the heaviest sort. He hid behind a statue advertising for a blacksmith, and waited until the nearest squad had passed by, before entering the shop.

It was empty of any human presence at first sight. There was an old donkey standing there tied to some kind of wheel. Jack entered further, and a snort made him jump. There was a fat man asleep in the darkest corner, hugging a bottle in a most loving fashion. He had white hair and a wide mustache, and it seemed like he was the owner of the shop Jack had just entered.

Jack cautiously approached, and moved a hand before his face. When the man did not wake, Jack uncorked the bottle without moving it, and took a sniff. It had been rum, alright, but the bottle was empty. Jack sadly sighed, and shouted suddenly in the man's ear. The only reaction he could get was a slightly disgruntled snort.

Confident, Jack strode to the fire, beside which an anvil and a hammer lay. That was the part he liked less. He took up the hammer, and laid the chain between his wrists on the anvil as best as he could. This is where he wished he had Kurt with him. That boy had grown so strong it only took a single swing to get the chain to snap. The heat of the fire was heating his back, and sweat started to drip down his face. He took off his hat, and put it beside the anvil.

A few minutes later, he gave up and searched for an other way to get rid of the shackles. His gaze landed first on the donkey, that was quietly munching on some kind of donkey-food. Then he looked up to the wheels, and the heavy wood they were made of. It seemed like it would be strong enough to snap the chain. Now, to get the donkey moving…Jack took a red-hot poker and approached the donkey, who eyed him in a subdued daze. « Sorry mate. » And Jack gave a small pat with the scorching tool on the donkey's behind. The donkey jumped forward, and started walking round, putting the wheels in motion.

Jack jumped to secure the chain between two dents, and held his breath hoping it would work.

It worked. Once free, Jack headed back to the fire to get his hat back and leave, when he heard somebody opening the door. He barely had the time to hide behind the thick wood axis of one of the wheels before a young and athletic man came through the door. He had a very young face – maybe even younger than Kurt – and a distracted look about him. Perhaps a customer, but perhaps he worked there.

That hypothesis was confirmed when the boy approached the sleeping drunkard, and muttered under his breath. « You haven't moved a bit since I left you. » Sighing, the boy turned away, and approached the fire – and anvil. Jack bit his lip. His hat ! Though, the boy may be simple minded, he would still notice the hat ! And, as Jack feared, the boy did indeed notice the hat, and the hammer. « You aren't where I left you. » The boy needed friends if he took to speak to his hammer. As the boy reached for the strange hat, Jack jumped forward smacking his hand with the flat of his sword.

Jack took his hat, and tucked it on his head. The boy caught his breath and whispered, sounding both astonished and indignant, « You're the pirate. » Jack smirked and wiped his hands on a cloth nearby. « Well, aren't you the smart one. »

The boy grabbed an unfinished sword and pointed it under Jack's nose. This was becoming old quickly. Jack took out his own sword again, and crossed it with the boy's. He made a slight move on the right, and the boy followed, his face getting caught in a stray sun spot leaking through the approximate roof. Jack squinted, and cocked his head to the side. That face was… kind of…

« You look strangely familiar, boy, have I ever threatened you before ?

- I try very hard not to associate with pirates.

- I'd hate t'become a black spot on your record. Let me excuse meself… » And Jack strutted off to the door.

And as he reached to open, a dagger stuck the handle in position. Jack tried to get it out, and failed without surprise. The wood was very dry, and the dagger deeply embedded in it. He turned to face the boy again, rolling his eyes. « You're sure you wan' to do that, whelp ? No' many people cross swords with a pirate and liv' t'tell the tale. »

Fighting wih the boy was very amusing. It was certainly very different from mock-fighting with Kurt, for even if the boy was a bit broader in the shoulders than Jack was, he still did not compare to Kurt's gigantic stature. He was good, too, if a bit too straightforward and conventional. He had surprisingly good foot work – something gravely lacking in most pirate-fights, since they often wobbled on their sea-legs. But his face kept reminding him of something…Somebody…

Speaking of remembrance, a picture of the girl's pendant flashed before his eyes. The boy's face might have been disturbing, but that…That pendant – coin turned pendant – was _worrisome._ How had she gotten by it ? He knew Barbossa and his crew had given away those coins but to find one of them _here_ of all places…At the neck of a high-up girl, even !

And there was a legend about those coins.

Jack was not so fond of legends. He liked fantastical stories alright, but he did not like to be entwined with one. If there was one legend he would like to paticipate in, it would be his own. That of the cursed treasure, he could bear to stay away from. Save if it got him closer to his Pearl, of course. He had to investigate that. But first, he had to get Kurt out of jail, and for that… He swiftly armed his gun, and held it to the boy's face. The young man blinked, and gasped. « You cheat !

- Pirate, » said Jack with a smile. And then everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, he was in a cell, facing a stone wall, and his back to the corridor. His hat had fallen off his head and now served as a pillow, effectively strangling him ; but all his weapons had disappeared. His head felt as if his brain were dancing madly against his ears. It was kind of disturbing, and he grabbed his head between his hands to calm it down. A tiny little rock was poking between his ribs, and he rolled over to avoid it.

« Welcome back to the living, Cap'n.

- Kurt. How delightful to hear your so melodic voice again.

- Thanks. How's the head ?

- Hesitating between killing me or leaving me altogether.

- You have that effect on people, too. »

Jack managed to sit, and take in the surroundings. There were three cells in a row. One occupied by four pirates that were trying to get the dog to approach with a dried out bone. In the middle was his own cell, and finally that of Kurt. The ground was very dusty, and he held back a sneeze. When his vision cleared, he saw that the dog held the keys in his mouth. Kurt was laying against one of his walls, his hat down on his face and a very decontracted look about him.

that was it folks. So, what do you think? is it worth spending a few nights on it, or should I just concentrate on getting my degree?

Feedback is appreciated. (or more exactly so, craved)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Although I did ask him to, Santa didn't bring me Jack Sparrow with a nicely wrapped bow for christmas. I was very upset for a while, and then decided that I'd get even by publishing the second chapter of my story. (Finally)

Again, I'd like to thank warmly Karibbean for her useful and witty notes. Since I have to read my story again and again, having a fresh advice sheers me up, because the fiction seems less boring when she is talking about it...

Have a nice time!

* * *

**Getting 2 – by Tozi**

Trying to forget the painful throb of his head where something hit him – who did that? – Jack leaned against the wall closer to Kurt's cell, and pushed his hat on his head also. They were in for a tough night, and trying to escape while they were exhausted would get them nowhere. They'd better sleep, and make out something in the morning. Besides, they had not gotten any rum before getting caught.

Jack had been sleeping soundly for a few hours when a sudden agitation in the corridors above the cells woke him up. Soldiers and officers were screaming orders and directions, running and moving around heavy objects. He heard a metallic creaking, and the sound of muskets being charged, and people rushing down the stairs to exit the prison to town, and…Were those cannons?

Jack blinked, and pushed his hat back up. Cannons. Two different sets of cannons. Some he could hear being shot just above his head, and across the harbor, and the second set…Those…Those cannons … It couldn't be…Had he ever been that lucky?

He rose and reached for the window, grabbing for the thick iron bars to steady himself and be able to glance over the stone edge into the bay.

It was magnificent.

The night had settled, a thick blanket of darkness softening the panorama to a starry dreamland. The fort sat in the middle of high volcanic heights surrounding Port Royal, the trees turned to blue trimmed shadows. Here was the infinite sky, with countless stars and planets…Here was Venus, Jupiter…Polaris and Orion…The moon, high and bright, illuminated the area with a milky light, dripping from trees and buildings into the sea in diaphanous manifestations of silver mist.

And, right in the middle of the bay, tall and proud like a queen, floated the Black Pearl.

For the first time in ten years, he was finally allowed to see his ship again.

Jack grabbed the bars more firmly, and hoisted himself higher against the small window, his eyes drinking in the most awaited apparition. He felt like a fish long out of the water, falling back into the sea. Like a bird that had been caged for eternity and then suddenly freed, trying carefully out his wings before soaring into the sky with a thrilled song. Heck, Jack felt like singing himself, but his throat was caught in the vice-like grip of his emotions. _Finally, _after ten _years… _

He breathed out, still gazing outside. « The Pearl… »And it made it all more real…The Pearl was here. It was _here._ Right within his reach, all he had to…

« The Black Pearl?

- Can't be!

- We'r'all dead!

- Pirates!

- Help!

- Move out you licy lap dog!

- Wotch'out!»

There was a dreadful crash, and a cannon bullet collapsed the wall just outside Jack's cell, right beside the three pirates that had been tempting the dog with a bone. « Oh sweet! » murmured one of them, and they all sneaked out. The last one turned briefly toward the flabbergasted Jack and Kurt, and said in a half-mocking, half-contrited tone. « Sorry mate. Gotta go! »

When they were finally all out, Jack lunged for his own wall, trying to tear out the remaining stones with his bare hands. He was deaf to Kurt's calls for a few minutes, and only when he started ripping his own flesh on the sharp edges did he wake from his frenzy. He then turned to the dog, and saw the abandoned bone and started for it, when he caught his feet in Kurt's, which the young man had slipped through the bars to trip him. Jack got up on his elbows and glared. Kurt raised his hands in a apologetic manner. « Sorry Jack. You were going nuts.

- I _am_ nuts.

- More than usual then.

- We've got t'get out. That's the Pearl outside! It's here, right _here, _don't you _understand? _The Pearl is _here!_ »

Jack's voice had gotten higher as he got more excited, and he was twitching and fidgeting, and most certainly losing his nerves. It was an incredible sight, maybe because he _did not_ seem all that different from everyday life, but still let off an impression of urgency close to madness, and obsession. The prospect of being reunited with the Pearl was no different to Jack than that of living to a condemned man – if the man was fond of living.

« _Jack_. »

The captain turned to his companion. Kurt was kneeling behind the bars, right beside him. He had an interested look about him, eyeing Jack with a curiosity akin to that of the zoologist observing a particularly surprising new specimen. Kurt sighed and it rolled from his chest like thunder. Jack was accustomed to everything being bigger with Kurt. His sighs were said to be able to power small dinghies for a few leagues. It was not true, but it was amusing nonetheless. « Calm down.

- I _am_ calm.

- Now you are. You weren't a few minutes ago. You're a pain when you're frantic. »

Jack's face contracted, and he tried to cool down a little. Yes. Do cool down. True gentlemen of fortune did _not _lose their nerve, they did not panic, nor did they allow themselves to give into meaningless agitation. In that case, agitation was _not_ meaningless, but it hardly mattered to Kurt, so it should not matter more to Jack. Hell would freeze over before Jack consented to Kurt being a better pirate than _he _was. Heck, he had been the boy's mentor, for Calypso's sake ! He joined his hands under his chin, and gave a small bow. « Right. You're absolutely correct mate o' mine. Let's abide by ou' Majesty's favorite sayin' 'Wait and see'.

- What 'Majesty' are you talking about ?

- Dunno. There's boun' to be one tha' would agree wif me. Beside, it's the full moon.

- True. Pirates always sleep on the night of the full moon.

- Yep. Sleep tigh' »

Yet it was not to be, for at that very moment, a stranger entered the corridor; a pirate, apparently. He was neither tall nor short, a bit on the stocky side, with a broad beard and a gold trimmed green cap. Save for that bit of fancy clothing, he was dressed in rags. Surprised at finding himself in such an unfriendly settlement when he had been obviously searching for gold, the pirate blinked, and took in the two occupied cells and the destroyed one. He got a large toothy grin when his eyes paused on Jack, and had an appreciative groan. « Looks like _you'_re still alive, _captain._ »Jack smiled back, and sighed. « Like a bad penny. »

The pirate stood closer, and reached to pull a strike at Jack's left cheek. The captain backed away in time, not without noticing the incredible change of the other pirate's arm when it went through a moon beam. Kurt gasped, and Jack muttered. « So there is a curse after all… » The intruder merely snorted, smirked while glancing at the heavy iron doors, and waved good bye. « Well, see ya Sparrow! » And he was gone. Jack huffed, and placed his hand on his hips. « Maybe now we'll be able t'get some sleep! I'll have the warden notified of th' way 'is guests are interrupted here! »

Kurt merely grunted in response, snuggling already against one of the corners of his cell as if nothing had happened. Jack considered peeking again through the window, but chose to sleep instead. Morning would come, and with it a new day, new wind, new changes. Everything comes to a pirate that knows how to be patient. If ten years hadn't taught that to Jack, nothing could have.

Like everyday, morning came. It was a bright, cool and sunny morning, when the traumatized city of Port Royal started to pick itself together. The dazed inhabitants were wandering the streets in hopes of finding some missing relative or a lost possession the pirates could have dropped on their way back to the ship. Those that had no hope of such happenings were already building back their houses. Hurricane season was on the way, and it would be good for every construction in the city to have a proper roof.

Jack woke up to the clatter of a wooden plate in his cell, sporting a grey gooey…something the guard introduced as breakfast. Jack took the plate, eyed the mixture curiously and then turned the plate upside down. The grey goo stayed together, and not a drop fell down on the floor. He smiled crookedly, and set the plate back near his door. Then, he went to the window.

The rising sun shone right into his eyes. He squinted, and observed the city. Many ships in the harbor seemed to have suffered a great deal of the cannoning of the night. The Interceptor that had been docked in a secluded area the day before had been moved to the main dock, and many red coats show an intense agitation around it. So the Navy was planning on taking pursuit. The Black Pearl was at least eight hours ahead, they had no chance of catching up with them. And from what Jack had seen, even if they did catch up, it would be of no use trying to fight them.

There was no news as to what would happen to them during the day, and Jack and Kurt concluded that unless they were taken out of their cells they would not make any escape attempt. The less they thought of hanging them, the more time they had to plan how to leave the island. Kurt used the bone to carve some cups into the ground, and they played ma-jong during the day, when they were not sleeping.

The change they had been waiting for stumbled down the stairs in the form of a young clumsy boy Jack instantly recognized. The – barely – twenty year old went directly to the cell where Jack was lazily resting against the bars separating his cell from Kurt's. He watched the boy from beneath his thickly painted eyelashes, taking notes of the few changes that had taken place since he had last seen him. The boy was tired, with circles under his eyes, and had a large bruise spreading from his forehead into his hair. They merely examined each other thus, silently, the younger growing more and more uncomfortable. Jack placed a little stone into one of the cups Kurt had made, and then spread his arms, addressing the new-comer.

« As you c'n observe, I'm now in a prison cell, an' have been stripp'd bare of me earthly possessions. Unless y' tell me what you want, A' won' be able to devine wha' A could provide you with.

- The guards…They said… »The boy winced. « They said you knew about the ship that came here last night.

- A ship ? Wha' ship ? » The boy breathed in deeply, and seemed to get some control on his irritation. « The Black Pearl.

- Aaah !...Yep. That ship. Gorgeous isn' she ?

- Horrible.

- I resent that.

- Do you know where it makes berth ?

- Do I know where it makes berth ?

- Well do you ? »

Jack got up, and walked to the door. He leaned in to place himself face to face with the boy, who winced when he caught sent of the pirate's breath and clothes.

« Th' question I'm tempted to ask back is what you're goin' t'do wif that info'mation, Boy. »

Said boy crumpled a bit, and his shouders sagged. « They took Miss Swann with them.

- So you _do_ hav'a lass ! »The boy sent him a scorching look. « An' now you wanna go sav'her. How romantic.

- Do you _know_ where the Black Pearl is going, or should I leave you here to rot ?

- What are ye givin' me if I say I know an' can tak' you there ?

- I'm getting you out of that cell.

- Great. What's your name ?

- William Turner. »

Argh.

He did _know_ that boy after all. Well, Jack had never met him in person, but he had heard quite a deal about him from his father. Late father. That also meant Jack had a card in his hand no one but him would know about. The boy was not dumb enough to start spreading his name around when in company of a _pirate_ was he?

« Deal. The Black Pearl's heading for the Isla de la Muerta. Get me out o' here so we can get on th' way. » The boy did not discuss further, but merely picked up a bench against the wall, and rammed the first two legs under one of the bars of the door. Seeing Jack's skeptically raised eyebrow, he explained. « If we lift the door, it comes free. The matter is… » A loud clang echoed near them, and William Turner turned to find the other pirate setting the door back in its frame. The young giant – William guessed he could not be much older than himself – smiled joyously, and dusted his hands against his trousers. « Handy trick, that. Need any help ? » And he weighed heavily on the bank. Jack sprung out of the cell, and headed for the cupboard where the guards had stacked his and Kurt's things. « Make sure the way's clear Kurt. » He quickly proceeded to dress himself – he even retrieved his coat, before dragging the boy after him, handing Kurt his sword and guns on the way. Kurt nodded, and followed them down the corridor to the outside.

They did not speak until after they found a relatively secure hiding place near the beach.

« _Who_ is_ he _? » hissed Turner. Jack rolled his eyes. « His name's Kurt Adriamson.

- I'm his teddy bear. He's afraid of the dark. » Kurt piped in, amused. Jack eyed him funnily. « Alright. I'm…an associate. A colleague.

- A subordinate, added Jack.

- I resent that.

- No you don't.

- Quiet ! » Thy turned to the boy. « _How _are we getting out of here ?

- Why, we're goin' to commandeer a ship.

- We're going to _what _?

- Commandeer. Nautical term. Same as « borrowing ». whispered Kurt while Jack was already turned to the sea. »

William followed the two strange men under a boat all across the beach, and diligently swam all the way to the Dauntless, almost a third of a nautical mile ahead. He copied how his companions climbed up the hull the best he could, and settled his feet on the deserted deck with heavy panting. **Kurt –seemingly unfazed by the effort they had just pulled off – took hold of the starboard mizenmast rigging and started climbing. Jack shouted something William did not grasp the meaning of, and signaled something to the right. Instantly, Kurt tugged a rope and a wide white sail jumped free, flapping heavily in the sharp wind that had picked up early in the morning.**

Lieutenant Gillette was taking care of shipping some of the Dauntless' tools back to the Interceptor with a few men. Jack took out his gun, as he had no time to waste on tricking them to leave the ship. « Everyone stay calm, we're takin' ova' the ship ! » The small party looked up, astonished. Kurt lingered a bit behind picking out some algae that had gotten stuck in the buckle of his boot, so Will stood up near Jack and shouted. « Avast ! » Jack frowned. Seriously. Avast ? If there was one word in sea battling that was not so piratey, it could very well be « Avast. ». He heard Kurt snort, and detected the premises of a smile on the officer's face. He lifted his gun to point it in between his eyes, and drawled, quite confidant. « Son. I'm Cap'n Jack_ Sparrow_...Savvy ?» He sounded so very convincing he felt almost convinced himself.

He promptly got them to leave the deck on a dinghy, and had Kurt and Will begin to ready out some sails. It was not what came first when getting ready to make way, but it was what they would notice first. He noticed that Will had obviously never been on a ship before. Even Kurt had been better at setting up sails when he was a kid. In the distance, he heard the man he had threatened shout out for his commodore. He approached the wheel, and checked the rudder mechanism. For such a fancy ship, it sure was not very elaborate; Jack took out a knife, and dismantled a few of the rotating wheels. There. Nothing terrible done and it would take them a few hours to repair. If the Interceptor lived up to her reputation, they would not have to fear a thing.

He sent Kurt high in the rigging, to take care of the two square sails top-mast, and eyed worriedly the dock, where the Interceptor was leaving. No matter how small she seemed when compared to the Dauntless, it would still be no small feat to bring her in to Tortuga by themselves. The approach of the port, and the lowering down of the anchor would be particularly tricky with only one man able to directly understand what Jack would be ordering – he was quite sure the whelp could imitate without problem. William Turner came up, resting against the wheel Jack had just rendered useless. « Here they come. »

Jack turned again, his pistol lying on his shoulder. The Interceptor _did_ live up to her reputation. It really was quite a sight, and Jack felt a small pang in his heart. If only his heart was not already lost to the Black Pearl…But no. He could not allow himself to have such thoughts. The Black Pearl was the only ship he could bring himself to love, ever. Maybe Kurt would be pleased to start as the captain of the Interceptor under Jack's colors…That would be just great. It would take care of the competition the boy was to become once he would start on his own anyway. Well he would make the offer. Kurt was probably the only one Jack could consider working with that way.

He made it below with his two companions, and hid under the netting at the aft. He had to hand it to the commodore, the man knew how to steer a ship. The Interceptor stopped smoothly her course without a hint of sail being dropped, ready to go again. They heard the soldiers board the Dauntless, and Kurt dared an eye to check if their next commandeering was all clear. He came back with a positive response, and they silently changed ship.

Will made quick work of severing the ropes holding both ships together, while Kurt quietly corrected the orientation of the sails so that they would catch more wind. Jack knocked the hold on the wheel easily and gave a jerk on the left side so the Interceptor would grow apart from her colleague. The wooden planks the soldiers had used to board the Dauntless fell down with a splash, and Jack turned around to look back on to the Dauntless. He caught the sight of the commodore's frustrated face and had a wide and graceful sweep of his hat. « Thank you Commodore, for helpin' us t' get ready to make way ! We'd have had a hard time all on ou' own ! » and he chuckled. So much for catching Captain Jack Sparrow. Now. On to Tortuga.

It felt just as if returning home. Well, not exactly. Home was on the Pearl. But hey, Tortuga was not half bad.

Port Royal had just gotten below the horizon, when the whelp decided to make himself known again. He had been helping Kurt clear the deck – the soldiers had left in a bit of a hurry – until then. Jack sighed.

« I'm no simpleton, Jack. You agreed only once you knew my name. You knew my father. » Blah blah blah. Well, the boy might not be a _simpleton _per say, but he still was no pirate, which meant he could not possibly have any of the hindsight something like 'knowing somebody' meant. Knowing one's father did in no way guarantee the good intentions of the one knowing said father. In the hard world of piracy, it was even often the other way around. Still, since Bill had been dead to Jack for quite a few years now, he estimated there was no use in continuing to hate him; a waste of energy that was. Bootstrap Bill Turner could sleep at peace when thinking of Jack, for Jack had long since dropped the touchy matter of mutiny between them. He glanced up at Kurt, who was keeping an eye onto the sea. He wondered for a few minutes how much the boy knew. Jack was not prone to confession, but Kurt had that annoying habit of his of always knowing more than he let on, and using it in his own best interest. Jack took a deep breath before answering.

« Probably the only un' who knew him as William Turner. The others wou'd just call 'im Bootstrap, or Bootstrap Bill. » The whelp's face went all funny when catching on his father's nickname. « Bootstrap ? » Oh, yep, there was such a humiliating story behind that nickname. If the boy was very nice, he would tell it to him just to see his face go all flustered again.

« Good man. Good pirate. »_ Until the end. _Jack wanted to say. But it would not have been very sensible, nor true – not that Jack cared. It was just that Jack saw no point in insulting people when being unable to watch their reaction. Obviously, the boy did not take any pride in Jack's compliment. Youngs these days… "My father was _not _a pirate. He was an honest merchant sailor, and he followed the law. " Now that was just insulting.

"He was a pirate, a scallywag.

- No he was not!" All that denial was getting old quickly. Jack pushed the wheel so the wind would come on starboard, and blocked it with the rope reserved to that effect. The sail just above them changed orientation, and William Turner was soon left hanging over the sea by its wooden counterweight. Jack approached the railing, and met his eyes with his own.

"Now lookee here boy. Dis isn' just 'bout who people are. This is about wha' they can, or cannot do. " Little William frowned. Jack relished in seeing him helpless. He heard Kurt yell at him after being thrown around a bit in the crow nest. " For example, you can accept tha' your father was a pirate, or you cannot. The thing is, here you don' really ge' to choose 'cuz there is only one truth, an' for once, it's me very own self that's sayin' it." William frowned. Jack grinned. "Other example, easier. Smaller words. A can let you drown right here an' now for all A care; but I _can't_ bring in a ship this size to Tortuga wiv' only Kurt there to 'elp me." Jack turned to the wheel, released it and had William come onto the quarterdeck again. He handed him his sword, savoring his victory over the weakness of honesty. "Can you sail unda the orders of a pirate, or can you not?"

William frowned lightly again, but took his sword, just as Jack knew he would. "Tortuga?

- Aye. Tortuga."

Jack heard clapping and lifted his eyes to Kurt, who was whooping in delight. "Sum' great drama down there!" Jack had a roguish smile, and made a theatrical salute with his hat. Then, he screamed. "Com' down here! You're gettin' us to Tortuga, an' I gonna look if the've packed any rum 'ere."

In three quick hops, Kurt was beside the wheel. "Heading for Tortuga right ahead Captain!

- Right. Boys, play nice together.

- Yeah Mum.

- Don' even think of comparin' me to your mother.

- As if you could.

- Yeah. Erm. Well. Like I said." And Jack scampered off.

William stood beside Kurt, watching Jack swagger off with a confused look. "Your mother?

- Yeah. The most incredible woman in the Caribbean. Jack would sell his own skin before going against her."

Of course, the commodore might have been a good sailor, but he would make a terrible pirate. Jack had not found a single drop of rum in the whole ship. He found three bottles of a fancy French wine, that might have suited the kind of people the man entertained but it was in no way sufficient to quench Jack's thirst. He settled to have a bite, despite his disappointment in not finding any suitable drink. He would make sure to get loads of it once in Tortuga.

Tortuga was probably the place Jack liked most, beside the one behind the Pearl's wheel. It was heavily populated, filthy, damp, anonymous, joyous and downright dangerous, but it was also a place of every liberty and rights. No law in Tortuga, save that of the strongest. And since he was eleven, Jack had considered himself as one of the strongest, even before he went to Tortuga for the first time. He stretched and laid back into a hammock, swinging slightly with the ship's rocking. He would need all the rest he could get in the next few days, he could feel it.

Anchoring the Interceptor had gone better than Jack had thought it would. Will was a fast learner, and had shown the useful skill of staying out of one's way – skill not everybody could claim they possessed. Jack told Kurt to stay aboard to avoid any colleagues nicking the ship while they were away. As the boy had been up the whole day and a good part of the night he did not make a fuss and only requested that Jack share the rum he would bring back with him and got his mail.

Jack would never admit it to anybody, but he had since long considered Jonathan Gibbs to be one of the most honourable and trustworthy men in his acquaintance. He did not know why, but suspected it was because of his military past. A pirate that had run away from a commandment was in Jack's mind twice more reliable than any other because they had been condemned twice to death. Once for piracy, as anybody else, but also for treason and desertion.

Gibbs, in addition, was of Irish descent. Irishmen, Jack thought, had a passion Englishmen lacked, a warmth of character the French failed to imitate and a cowardice the Spanish despised. All those made Jack like Gibbs better than any other sailor he had ever sailed with. Save Kurt. But then, Jack had _made_ Kurt.

This is why, as soon as he had set foot on solid ground, he grabbed the whelp by his sleeve and went to ask if the man was ashore. Good news, he was, and the duo settled to search every tavern in town. This was also why Jack liked Gibbs. The man was predictable and easy to find. They found him in the backyard of a tavern, happily asleep in a pig's pen. He used the most efficient way to wake up a man from a drunken stupor – water – and threw a full bucket of water at him.

Gibbs woke up suddenly, and not in the best of moods. Jack waited patiently for him to recognize who had woken him up. "Holy mother of…Jack!" He almost sounded happy to see him. "Ye shou' know betta' than to wake a sleepin' man. Is' bad luck." Well. Time to bargain. "Lucky then that I know how to break that bad luck. The man who did the wakin' buys the man who was doin' the sleepin' a drink. And the man who was sleepin' listens to a proposition from the man who did the wakin'."

He could almost see the wheels clicking into place inside the man's mind. Gibbs face lit up in a smile. "Aye. Tha' shou'd about do it."

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Once Jack had finished getting Gibbs settled to get a crew, they started their way back to the Interceptor. It was time for bed, for the whelp was ready to collapse under his sleepiness. They stopped to order a few barrels of rum for the next day, and to get a few letters for Kurt at his usual tavern. William eyed the letters funnily – Kurt and Jack had not been in Tortuga for almost two months, there were eight envelopes neatly wrapped together with a leather string that Jack stacked carefully in his coat pocket. Those contained sometime important information.

Everything was silent on board of the Interceptor. Jack decided not to wake Kurt, and went to sleep after a few hours of contemplating the stars. Soon, he would be watching them from the Black Pearl's deck again. Giddy with joy and happiness, he had a hard time getting to sleep, although he did manage to get three hours of rest after the sun had risen. He woke up to the nice smell of coffee and breakfast.

Kurt and Will were both sitting beside a small brasero on deck, and were full-heartily eating some of the provisions the Interceptor had in its storage. Bread, bacon, canned and fresh fruit, and a whole pot of black coffee. That was more than they had had for breakfast in months. Jack sat down, poured a cup of coffee and threw a few slices of bacon over the fire. They started cooking with a slight sizzling sound and a heavenly smell. While waiting, he fished out the letters he had put away the night before. "Tell me what's important."

Kurt took the letters, and studied the order. He opened the most ancient first, and carefully flattened the paper on his knee before starting to read. William tried to get a glance, but Jack knew it was no use for Sleveig wrote to her son in her mother tongue, German. Unless the whelp had more education than he let on, there was no way he would understand a word of what he was reading. Kurt read three letters before translating a little info. "It seems like the EITC is less and less pirate-friendly nowadays. Leig came back from Thailand a month ago, with dreadful news concerning Sao Feng. He's lost quite a bunch.

- Does she know how much?" Kurt read quickly again.

" She heard of three ships. Captain Tuang, Captain Haishon and Teuchu.

- Never heard ov' 'em.

- Leig says Father told him there's been three more since then, nobody we knew either, from Chen's fleet. Joshua had a brush with them but managed to lose them around the Horn.

- What've they got wiv' Joshua? He's workin' part time wi' them!

- No idea."

Kurt resumed his reading, and it was not before the seventh letter that he came across something of some importance. He even let go of a surprised shout, startling Will who doused himself with a bit of his coffee. "Mutty's pregnant!"

Jack spat out the bit of mango he had been munching on, and nearly died suffocating. Kurt was furiously reading, while William, curious, was observing him intently trying to take care of the mess he made with his coffee at the same time. "WHA'?!" Kurt grinned like a madman and opened the last letter. It seemed shorter than the other, and he was quickly done with them. "Mutty's pregnant. Two months at most.

- Isn' she too old for that?

- My grandmother had my mother at age forty-three. It runs in the family. "

Jack groaned and Will hid a smile. Kurt had a goofy grin plastered on his face as he turned more toward Jack. "That's it. I'm goin' to visit her as soon as we've got time to spare, after we got the Pearl. " Jack grunted and snorted. Will thought he heard a "Out of the question." But made no remark. Kurt laughed and clapped his captain on the back. "Come on, it's been more than ten years since I last saw her!

- Mommy's boy. Never heard of a pirate who wrote to his mother every two weeks.

- Hey! If you'd had a mother like mine, you'd never have left her side!

- I'd have run away as soon as I'd been born."

The two pirates left their breakfast, and started getting to the dinghy, bickering all the while. William Turner followed them, slightly awed, and wondering about that woman he had never met. He suddenly felt a bit ridiculous. During the trip to Tortuga, he had boasted a bit about his mother raising him by herself to Kurt, and it seemed the woman he had thought of as extraordinary was not so exceptional.

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That was it. Care to leave an impression? Nothing easier. Leave a review, It will either give me strengh to continue, or informations to make it better. Until later.

Tozi


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hello, I'm back, and despite having worked realy hard to gain a lot of money and buy - even only a little bit of mustache - Jack Sparrow. Alas, here I come, Jack-Sparrow-less.

The action is getting on, next chapter is really hard to write because of the confrontation with Barbossa, and I s**** at writing action.

For now, have fun.

Tozi.

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Getting back the Pearl, chapter 3

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The first thing Jack noticed when meeting his new crew was that they were all poor enough to take on any job, and had probably a hangover strong enough to make their surroundings fuzzy – they probably did not know what they were up to. Jack distractedly listened to Gibbs' presentation while silently counting how many men he had against the fifty cursed pirates Barbossa had under his command. Twelve. Not bad, but it could have been better. The whelp, as always, was complaining. Kurt, surprisingly, was silent.

It was not that Kurt was a particularly chatty lad, but the hiring of a crew was a rare enough occasion that Jack expected him to comment. He stole a look at his subordinate and noticed how Kurt was inspecting someone at the bottom of the line. Well, at least he was not looking out at the sea, north-west, thinking of his little brother or sister to be. Kurt was a mommy's boy, but he was not ridiculous.

The pirate with the parrot seemed interesting, in the old weather battered sailor way. Maybe Jack should get a parrot. He could train him to say all kinds of funny things – including 'Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow' since it seemed as he was repeating those very words much too often. To have a parrot do that for him would be a relief. Or he could ask Kurt. But Kurt was a nasty name for a parrot, so Jack resolved to reconsider the acquisition of a talking pet later, when he was not about to be reinstated in his possessions – namely the Pearl.

Still, if Kurt was to sail on the Interceptor, and Jack on the Pearl, they could use a parrot to exchange messages.

Jack realised he was internally babbling and decided to get back to the matter at hand quickly. He was hiring a crew to go after the Pearl. He _had_ to make sure it was a good one. And the whelp was _complaining_. Parrot-pirate would do the trick.

« Mister..er …erm…

- Cotton, provided Gibbs.

- Mister _Cotton_. Are you, or are you not, ready to fight, kill, dispense and receive injury and eventually die for the sole purpose of making your Captain happy ? »

Then, the _parrot_ spoke. It was grand. « Wind in da sails, Wind in da sails ! » Brilliant. Jack _had_ to get one.

No. Later. First, the Pearl.

« He's got 'is tongue cut off, so he train'd the parrot to speak in'is place. No one's quite sure 'ow. » Explained Gibbs. « Mostly, we figure dat means yes. »

Ta! Now, that was all the confirmation the whelp needed that pirates were, in fact, much more reliable than law-abiding sailors. Jack could not help but turn around and puff out his chest a little, once more proud to be whom and what he was. But, before he could make his opinion known to smart-mouthed eunuch, another voice rose and asked, which he recognised reluctantly and with dread. « An'what is to be ou' interest ? »

He made his way down the line and lifted the wide hat covering Anamaria's head. « Aah…Anamaria. »

Her face was always a sight for sore eyes. Anamaria was a refreshing sort of lady. The kind that could hit your face and make you cherish her like a cute little sister at the same time. A particular kind of sister. So, despite the impending violence that was bound to take place in any moment of time, he was happy to see Anamaria again. And, as he suspected, she slapped him, hard.

« And I don't suppose you did anything to deserve that ? » Asked the whelp. Well. He thought he was fast learning, but he would soon understand pirates did sometimes have to act un-gentlemanlike in order to accomplish their mission. Make the world a more agreeable place for pirates, and less agreeable for honest people. Hence, for once, Anamaria did have a reason to slap him. In fact, had he been in her place, he might just have killed himself – take Barbossa for example.

« Actually, no. This one I did deserve. » He saw Kurt wave happily at Anamaria, and squinted. The lad had always been much too comfortable around the dark-skinned woman. « You stole ma ship, Jack Sparra' ! » she screeched. « Where is ma ship ?

- Calm down Ana, we'll get you a new ship. said Kurt.

- A new ship ?

- This ship. » The whelp may know how to stay out of one's way, and not be as oblivious as he seemed, but he still could not keep his mouth shut. He would learn the hard way.

There went Kurt's captaincy. Jack eyed him shortly, checking if the boy was disappointed. He was. Nothing obvious, but he was disappointed he could not go back to his mother for the first time in ten years with his own ship. The whelp had better be careful were he slept this night. Jack sighed and agreed, forced and unwilling. « That ship. »

Anamaria observed the Interceptor, then Jack, to see if he could be trying to joke his way around that one disagreement. But Jack was deadly serious and asked in return of her glare. « What say you ? She did not consult her shipmates before answering a thunderous :

- Aye ! »

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If William had thought the Interceptor an honorable ship while she was steered by two pirates worth their salt, then it was nothing compared to what she could do when loaded with a whole crew of those pirates. They did not seem like much, he realised, but they were the most effective and disciplined sailors he'd ever seen. There was almost no indication exchanged – only orders to get faster. It was as if – even having never set foot on the Interceptor before – they knew perfectly well how she responded to any kind of sailing ship and where everything should go. It was easy to understand how these men could be unhappy ashore when they lost all their clumsiness and vulgarity when just tying a knot aboard a ship. Kurt was by far the tallest of the crew, and had the widest shoulders. It was a wonder to see him standing beside Jack, when the captain was barely reaching his shoulder and stood completely in his shadow.

They were standing at the wheel, both of them. Kurt was making notes on a small book, while gazing at the broken compass Jack was handing out to him. Jack was holding the wheel and smiling widely. For some reason, the captain's companion was strangely silent and somber since they had left the harbor of Tortuga Island, not addressing a word to any of the new crew members save Mr Gibbs. Maybe it had to do with him being unable to visit his mother.

The weather was still generous, nothing as breathtaking as Commodore Norrington's promotion day – where the sky had been deep blue and the air dry and hot – but the wind was fresh and steady and the sky was white with thin clouds. A perfect day to make sail.

The living quarters on the Interceptor were dark and narrow, and surprisingly dry. The galley was minimalist, but nothing the crew could not deal with. Jack went down and sat at the small table in the Captain's cabin. He stretched his back and arms above his head. He felt both giddy with excitation and dulled down by nerves. He could _not_ fail. Not another time. Loosing the Pearl again when being so close to end a ten year search would kill him. There only was so much enthusiasm and stubbornness one could throw in a hopeless quest. Kurt would help, he was sure of it. The boy would stay by his side, as he had promised to, because there was still so much Jack could teach him. He would push and prod until Jack went on again to destroy himself longing after a freedom he could not obtain anymore.

Was the Pearl worth so much pain? Was suffering his way through seven seas and three oceans the only bargain that could get him his beloved ship back? Jack hoped it was, because he was about to sell another human being to what some would call a worthless bit of wood and sail. He took a deep breath, and a gulp of that delightful rum he had brought back from Tortuga. There was some good in being the captain.

The Interceptor gave a powerful jerk to the starboard side, and Jack barely caught himself before he fell out of his chair. He remained carefully aware of his surroundings, counting jerks until he was assured he had been right in warning Kurt about an oncoming storm. Slight breeze, really, but since it was their first time on this ship, they had better be careful. It _would_ be rather ridiculous to land on some kind of reef. When he was sure Kurt had noticed the change in the waves and would make sure to avoid them, he opened one of the drawers and got one of the maps out. It seemed like this small table was also meant to be the captain's desk. He snooped around a bit, and found a small clock inside one of the cupboards. It seemed like it had been well taken care of, and since it said three in the afternoon, which it was likely to be, Jack decided to go with it and calculated their course using it.

They were not very far. Another night at this speed – and with the wind picking up, it was even more likely – and they would finally reach the Isla de la Muerta. Jack dreaded and longed for that moment. He had never really set foot on the Island. He had dreamed so many times of actually getting there. As if the mutiny had never happened. He got up and out onto the deck to give Kurt directions – he would _not_ trust anybody else with those. Kurt was his creation, he would never betray him.

He went back up to the deck. There was no window in the captain's cabin, and he had missed the hour where the sky had gone from milky white to steely grey. Kurt was still standing at the wheel, pointing out an azimuth to Anamaria. She nodded, and went on shouting orders to those on the main mast. He climbed up next to him and patted his arm. « Go make sure they're all settl'd afore. And go check the speed too. This'll last a few hours, I'd like you to go rest and take over tonight after this lil' shower. » Kurt nodded and made a move to leave. « An' when you're done, come back t' get this! You'll need to set your course for t'night. » He waved his compass around.

Kurt was back in minutes – Jack was suddenly so proud of himself. He had made a _perfect_ pirate and sailor. Almost as good as he was. There still was the little matter of his mother – and those related to her – and the fact that he was _not_ Jack. He could not of course be what Jack thought to be perfection in piracy, but he could very well imitate it.

« You're going to have a nice eight hours here, Jack. Just go on south and I'll make the eastern way tonight. Here's the compass. Keep an eye out for th'whelp. It's his first bit of rough weather on a ship, we'd better make sure he lasts out the night. »

Jack did not gratify this with an answer, focusing instead on seeming absorbed in the feeling of the wheel in his hand. He was going to sell the boy. Of course he was going to make sure nothing happened to him during the night.

After Kurt left, he asked Gibbs to lift up some more sails before the ship started rocking too much for the men to be safe in the rigging – it was not a large crew, there would be no point in losing some during a small bout of wind. The gruff Irishman eyed him funnily, glanced up at the steely sky and gritted his teeth. Jack spread his feet slightly more apart, and breathed in deeply the cold and salty air. The wood of the deck and of the wheel felt solid and heavy in his hand and below his feet, and the Interceptor gave a singing whine when she surfed down one of the highest wave yet. It was going to be a nice afternoon.

Jack was positively drenched when he made it to the captain's cabin after nightfall. It was freezing cold, and pitch black. He took off his boots to empty them before entering the cabin, and threw them under the table before closing the door. He next took off his coat and hat, and hung them up after taking Kurt's clothes off the hooks on the wall. His apprentice's effects in hand, he made it to the bunk where the boy was sound asleep. He poked him in the shoulder, dripping salty water onto the bedsheets.

Kurt grunted and snug his disproportionately tall being more deeply into the squeaky mattress – it had to be the only real bed on the entire ship. Jack poked harder. Kurt woke and sat before stretching his torso, with his arms nearly brushing the ceiling. He emitted a deep rumble from within his chest, shook his head and spread his legs. Then, he stood up suddenly, banging his cranium violently against the ceiling. Jack winced in sympathy. Kurt whined, swore and stomped his foot in agony.

Jack waited patiently until Kurt had finished lamenting on his injured head – in several languages – and handed him his coat and his hat in a theatrical move. Kurt shrugged his coat on and took his hat – a wide brimmed black battered felt hat. « Oh please. It's the middle of the night. I don't need that. » Jack smiled devilishly and tutted. « Ye know what Mommy said, Momma's boy. Never out without a hat…

- Because a hat is always useful in the end. »

Kurt laughed and left the tiny cabin. Jack locked the door, and slipped out of his soaked shirt and trousers. He lay naked on the bed and wrapped himself in the covers. They were still warm and smelled lightly of a man's sweat. He wiggled his nose and snorted. Then, he buried his head in the cushion, turned on his side and bent his knees, and went to sleep.

The ship went on.

Jack slept only for a few hours, as when sober, he did not need extended sleep. He figured it was still dark outside since he heard Kurt shout for a man to light one of the lanterns again. Quietly, he lay on his back with his knees bent and his arms behind his head, and thought.

It had been some time since he had last had a ship to call his own. In ten years of sailing around the world, he could perhaps count on his ten fingers the number of times he and Kurt had had a cabin with a real bed. He brought the covers up to his shin and smelled them. They were still clean – only he and Kurt had slept in them for barely four nights – and not as scratchy as he remembered bed sheets to be. All in all, the Interceptor was a good ship. Some things had been overlooked to enhance the speed – the lacking of livestock for example – that could be missed on long outings, yet for a pirate ship, she was everything a young captain could wish for. Too bad for Kurt.

No wonder the boy had not sent Turner down with the afternoon shift.

Jack closed his eyes and pictured the large cabin he had on the Pearl. The large bay windows, the heavy table and shining candelabras, the varnished inlaid desk with the decorated map closet. The globe and smooth wooden floor. He was about to have everything given back to him, and at what price ? A young man he'd only known for a few days – the son of a man who betrayed him ! – a good deal if he could say so himself.

His burn started to itch. He rubbed it pensively and thought about what Kurt had said of his mother's letter. If they were turning their back on their occasional privateers, then something was bound to happen soon, and Jack would not be caught without a ship in those waters. Not to mention that Chen and the EITC did sometimes work hand in hand against the French.

Jack sat and stretched his hands toward the ceiling. He could hear Kurt thunder against some man's laziness in the rigging. Barely a few seconds later, the ship gave a pull. Jack smiled and fetched his clothes. His shirt and pants were dry. His coat was still damp as was the bleached scarf he wore under his leather belt. His boots were still wet also. He winced as he put them on and waved his arms around to get a good feel of the stiff cloth.

He went down to the galley and took some cheese, a bit of the lesser stale bread and a few gulps of water. Then he went upstairs.

The night was just waning off, with a very thin line of pale blue in the east. A few stars remained, through the moon had long since gone away. The pirates that had stayed up during the night had been some of those that had also served in the afternoon, and they were barely standing on their feet. Behind the wheel, Kurt was tapping his fingers against the wood to keep them from getting numb with the cold wind and icy water he had been subjected to all night. Jack breathed in deeply and looked around the horizon.

West was clear, a deep indigo blue with a few dots of star, but East was slowly eaten away by heavy clouds of mist coming from the South. He took note that he should ask of somebody to refill the lamps with oil, since the morning was bound to be dark.

He went to the main mast and he felt the men rise up their heads in hope. He could almost hear their relief when he hit the bell five times while shouting « Nigh' shift get down, day shift rise up, lug heads! » He banged his boots against the wooden deck and when he felt the satisfactory rumble of several men reluctantly waking up beneath his feet, he made his way toward Kurt.

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Finish for today!

until next time!

Reviews, please!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer : I own nothing

Happy christmas everyone!

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The young man was smiling widely and the captain wondered for a moment wether his cheeks had been frozen that way during the night. Jack laid himself back against the rail and observed his triumphant grin. « Som'thin' good happen'd that I should know about ? » Kurt lifted his gaze to his captain and his smile widened – if that was at all possible. « Aye. I bargained with Anamaria, and I got that ship back to where it belongs. » Jack pursued his lips and frowned comically. « Do I ev'n wan' to know what you did to her to mak'her change 'er mind ?

- I think you should.

- Oh ?

- Well, you are going to pay for it after all… »

Jack was now very concerned. Kurt had a wide grin. Now, Kurt grinning when he narrated his bargaining exploits was _worrysome. _He readied himself to some kind of astronomical number of gold coins, and watched anxiously as Kurt opened his mouth to speak. « She gets the Pearl's life-boat. And you have to pay for a mast. And some canvas. »

Jack could not believe what he was hearing. And yet, it was disturbingly easy to understand how somebody like Kurt would conclude a deal without consulting with Jack first. Kurt always thought Jack was learning bargaining from him instead of teaching him. Kurt shrugged at his sunken face. « What ? I'll pay you back anyway, because I need you to pay for my first crew. So I can also pay you back for the slight alterations made to a life-boat. Shouldn't be more expensive than a whole new crew. Save if you don't want to keep the one we have here on the Pearl. »

Jack opened his mouth. He _had_ to say something. He was the _captain_ for Calypso's sake. He could not let one of his crew turn him around like that ; even if it was one he was almost a father to ! No, scratch that, a _creator _! But, as it often happened when faced with Kurt's disarming abilities, he found he had nothing to say. He resolved to wait a few hours until he would have found something scathing to send back and went down on the deck.

The whelp – William Turner the second – had dismissed the order of going down to get something to eat and some sleep and was repairing some torn ropes beside Gibbs. The man was retelling the story of how Jack had been marooned, and the incredible story he and Kurt had spread around concerning his escape. Well, he liked to think of it like that, but really, people had started spreading that story long before Jack intended to have a legend about himself. In fact, it had been his own invention, while sitting in a pub in Bombay and introducing Kurt to the new taste of Asian rum ; a drunk man had been sitting beside them and had understood only half of what Jack had been inventing. Five years later, Jack was known as a man who could speak to sea-turtles. Alas, there was always one question that kept coming back. How did he get around some ropes on a deserted island ? Usually, when faced with that question, Kurt snickered and told them that nobody knew. Jack quickly made up some explanations, and told them to get down and feed. When William made a move to contradict him, Jack sighed and huffed. Well. If he wanted to faint from exhaustion while rescueing his damsel, he _was_ free to do so.

The look out shouted, and Jack went to the side to watch as a dark and high island drifted forth from the mist. He ran up to the wheel and told Kurt to coordinate sails to an eminent stop while he guided the ships through the sharp and indented reefs around the cove. Once the waters were still, he asked for the anchor to be released.

He pondered for a moment how he was going to go about this, when he spotted the Pearl just off the cliffs. The tall ship was as dark and forbidding than some of the reefs they had just passed by. He felt a knot of emotions rise up in his troath and beated it silently down. Before that, he had to see that the whelp got to his young lass. It would not do to breach a deal. Many thought it was a question of honor, and even more did know it was very bad luck.

He consulted with Kurt, and the young man agreed he had to stay on the ship to make sure everything was perfectly settled if they had to flee. It was concluded that Jack and William woud be the only ones to step onto the Island. Gibbs, ever the precautious one, was the only crew member who asked what to do if he ever was to fall behind. A simple gaze at Kurt ressolved the matter. Kurt knew the code even better than Jack did, with that damn memory of his…

As silently as possible, Jack ordered William to row the ship to the Island. The Isla de la Muerta was breath taking. Jack had never actually set foot on the island, but what he saw went terribly well with the legend. They did not find a shore, instead, they followed a narrow aquatic tunnel, where the water became clear and showed a bottom of dark stone and shiny gold pieces. Rock formed a tiny sidewalk littered with white shards he suspected to be bones. The whelp was rowing silently, eyes drifting overboard to the golden sparks he could see glinting in the light of the burning torches stuck into the wall. That did not bode well. The pirates had been in such a hurry they had not bothered to put out the lights – which noted no care for security (the entrance to the cave was shining like a star against the dark shape of the Isla de la Muerta). Jack doubted the whelp's girlfriend was still alive. He noted the fire that had been lit in the boy's eyes ; it amused him. « Ye know, ye're more of a pirate, than ye'd like to be.

-Absolutely not.

-I say ! Here you are, afta busting a pirate out o' jail, sailing unda his orders. And what's more…You're completely obsessed with treasures. »

The boy straightened immediately. « I seek no treasure. » They bumped into the side of a small cove where several other rowing boats were lined up. Jack jumped swiftly, and heard a rumor coming up from a corridor. He thought of the elegant hull of the Black Pearl ans nearly shuddered from excitation. « So says ye, whelp. But not all treasures are made of gold or silver, says I. »

And the treasures that came under another form than golden coins were sometimes much more precious than those, mostly because once lost, they could never be found again. Kurt would agree with him on that ; even through the young giant was very picky about his shares.

« What was that code, Gibbs was speaking about with Kurt when we left ? » Ah. Jack smirked. Kurt and the Code. « The Code of Piracy. Laws that rule the Seas more effectively than those of any country.

-Uh ? And what are they to do, if you effectively fall behind ?

-Leave. Every one who falls behind is left behind.

-No heroes among thieves.

-If there were, where would be the advantage of keeping up ? » He grinned, and the boy just hunched his shoulders.

The cave was impressive, and more furnished than he remembered the legend to boast. No doubt, Barbossa and his cursed crew had not laid low during all those years…He peecked through a crack of the stone, and saw something that would have an pirate running around in excitation. A _mountain_ of gold. Several feet high of piled up gold coins and jewels and statues and…He looked quickly at the whelp, and his breathless expression assured him he was not dreaming. He had to hand to Barbossa, the guy did one good job using those ten years. In the very back of his mind, Jack doubted he himself could have thrown together a treasure this impressive. Barbossa was standing in front of the golden mountain, on a large rock supporting the stone chest in which Jack could see the wide and thick coins of the Cortès treasure. The girl was standing behind him in a red dress that seemed somewhat familiar, but he could not have said where he'd seen it last. He caught William raising, poised for attack. He stopped him calmly with a hand on his arm. « I deal with it. You stay here, and wait for the…opportune moment. » Hence, when Jack would call him in for the exchange. He went around, thinking madly. How was he to convince Barbossa ? How to barge in… He needed something grand, something that would go down in memory. At least in his, since he was basically going to kill them all shortly after getting back in possession of the Pearl. He crossed the storage area for the paddles, and suddenly, a brilliant, a _grandiosa_ idea popped up in his head. _Of course _! He picked up a long, wooden paddle. _Perfect_. Now he was all set. He had his crew – Kurt would be keeping a close eye on them – his speach, his paddle, his bribe – at least he _hoped_ the whelp had not moved from his previous location…If he had, then all was - .

A furious roar resonated from the cave, and all _was_ lost. He heard the rushing footsteps of two running fugitives, the swooch the row boat made when they went away.

Bah. William would not be making a friend out of Kurt.

Everything was lost, for now. He would have to convince Barbossa not to kill him - easy. He would have to convince him to follow the Interceptor or maybe - _maybe_ - Kurt had had a good idea and gotten on the Pearl meanwhile. He would have to convince Barbossa to let him go free with his beloved ship - not so easy, but impossible was a word Jack refused to acknowledge. He had been wrong in underestimating the boy's blood - his father was a turncoat after all, no saying the son could not be one as well.

He took a deep breath, as what would follow would not in anyway be enjoyable. It might even be painful; to his pride at least. He took a solid hold of the wood paddle : if Barbossa decided to ignore his call of parlay, he would need a weapon. A paddle was as good as any. Finally, he rounded the thick rocks separating him from his enemy.

He recognised them. He had hired them, every single one of them, with the help of his trusted first mate, to seek out Cortès' treasure. they had had friendly face then, ready to laugh at his antics and his carelessness. They had been a good crew, during the three weeks they had remained loyal to him. Efficient sailors, dreadful pirates, good fighters and some...Some had even been friends. They had eaten the same bread, and drunk the same rum. As they saw him, they recoiled, as if afraid. Maybe they thought he was a ghost. He had been abandoned on a lost island. Or he had been incarcerated in Port-Royal, ready to be hung.

It _was _rather impressive that he was still alive. He smiled pleasantly and curtsied. Let it not be said that Captain Jack Sparrow was not a gentleman to old friends.

"Hello gentlemen. What a surprise."

....

* * *

Jack had witnessed many battles during his life. Most of them, he had taken part in, because while fighting was not his favorite passtime, he _was_ a pirate captain. As it was, standing out of the mischief when even that young lass of the whelp's was taking part was almost painful. As much as watching his beloved Pearl being blown up to pieces.

As far as he could tell, the battle was hopeless on the Interceptor's side. No surprise, there. They were easily outnumbered, Kurt's ship was deceptivey light and vulnerable to cannon bullets and Kurt had no idea he had a bargain possibility on board. Suddenly, Jack wished he had spoken with Kurt about his buisness with the whelp, as Kurt had proved to be a worthy associate and had much more to lose than say, Gibbs. He heard something crack, and the Pearl jerked to the side. He glanced through the hole in the hull and saw that the Interceptor had lost one of her masts. He shortly caught the face of Kurt, livid with anger before it disappeared behind the thick smoke the Pearl's cannons produced. His view was severily restricted, since he was below the level of the Interceptor's deck, and its fallen mast and canvas almost completely covered the hole a cannon ball had made in his cell. He could however hear Kurt's booming voice and Anamaria's chrill battle cry. This was Kurt's most obvious difference with Jack. The boy loved the fights. It was as if he never got enough of those.

Suddenly, a rope fell in front of the hole he was standing near. He took grip on it. a bit farther to the right laid part of the topmainmast that had fallen and broken off the mast and opened a large gash in the Pearl's lee-rail The deck of the Interceptor was complete chaos and his eyes stung with the smoke and burned gunpowder. He marched over the fallen mast and approached his apprentice. Kurt turned around and did not even have the decency to look surprised. Jack debated between being smug his little protegee had not been fooled by Barbossa, and plainly insulted his coming back from the supposedly dead had not led to more genuine happiness than the plain « Oh, you're here. » Kurt pronounced.

He squared his shoulder, raised his eyes to meet his, and said. « Yes, I'm back. So ? How is it goin' ?

-Badly. No chance of recovering the ship, I'm afraid.

-Aye. After you worked so hard to get it back from Ana…

-Don't talk to me about it. »

They moved quickly out of the way as Gibbs charged, a sword in each hand.

The young man was pale with anger. « All we had to do was delay our departure a little, time for us to get on the Pearl, and set sails toward East, and turn around the Island to hide ! But _no_, they wanted to go back to Port Royal right ahead and wash their honor by bringing back the Interceptor. I swear, Jack, unless you tell me he's your lost and found illegitimate child, I'll kill him.

-Great ! He's not. »

In no more time than it takes to say it, they were lined up on the Pearl's deck, Kurt still shaking from anger. William was nowhere in sight, but Jack was not worried. People like him did not have the good taste of dying before the adventure was over. The girl was screeching, again, and seemed surprised they had been caught up with, let alone vanquished. Jack looked around, taking in the changes made to the ship during his absence and the damages caused by the fight. Kurt had done well, considering they had thrown overboard almost all that could be used as weapon. But the Interceptor was well beyond repair. Barbossa ordered the destruction of the Interceptor and Kurt growled. He turned around and punched one of the cursed sailors so hard, he flew back ten feet. Barbossa, as usual, was grinning widely and Jack clenched his fists. The only thing Barbossa had over him was his luck. The man strolled down the deck as if he owned the place, and signalled to the men on the side to fire their cannons. Two bullets were shot, and the ship blew up. The girl cried, and tried to claw Barbossa's eyes out with her very fingers.

Too late.

Gibbs caught her before she was shot by one of the captain's henchmen, and she screeched. « He killed William ! » Kurt took hold of the red dress in the front, almost lifting her off her feet. « Yeah, and he is a pirate ! What ? You surprised he's not being a gentleman about it ? Face it girl, for now, we've _all_ been _very nice_ to you ! » And suddenly, a voice shot from behind him. « Leave her alone ! She did not do anything wrong ! » Kurt did not even take a breath before spinning around and taking out his gun to point at William Turner the second. « You ! I'm gonna kill you, good for nothin' whelp ! »

His voice was so loud and sharp it surprised even Jack. William pointed his own gun at him, and almost squealed. « What ? What for ?

-You had my ship blown up, shrimp ! How am I gonna visit my mutty without a ship ?!

-I am of your crew !

-Aye, and just for that little stunt you pulled off at the Island, I could have hung you ! Who do you think you are, ordering men around as if you were the captain ? You had never set foot on a ship a week ago !

-If you had been any better, they wouldn't have listened to me ! »

Jack had to hand it to Kurt, the boy knew how to get angry. His voice was raising like thunder, and his arm supported his long and heavy gun without trembling. Come to think of it, he had never really seen Kurt that angered ; sometimes annoyed, sometimes irritated, but raging mad like this ? Never. Why was he making such a show – although, it was in some ways justified – when his character was usually so easy going and fatalistic ? Jack looked around the deck in wonder. By now, even Barbossa was enraptured in watching the argument. Jack observed Kurt intently, and made quickly his decision. He reached forward and took hold of the girl's arm. Elizabeth, if he recalled correctly. Gibbs had passed his thicks arms around Kurt's middle to forbid him of reaching forward and punch the lights out of the boy. Almost gently, he led her to the back of the crowd without her even noticing. When she realised she was getting farther and farther from her – seemingly – only ally, she gasped and turned toward Jack. He planted his finger on his lips to indicate silence, and took his gun and sword from the pile near the door to the captain's cabin before guiding her to the side under the stairs that led over the captain's state-room, behind Kurt. His tall gesticulating form hid them from sight, and he quickly ripped off the bodice of the expensive dress she had on. She moved to scream in outrage and he muffled her with his hand motioning to a small island with his head. She looked at him angrily, and did not understand. He made her crouch behind a cannon, and whispered. « Kurt is doin' a good enough job of keeping the attention off of us. I hope your swimming improved since we last had the occasion to mesure it. »

Still holding his hand over her mouth, he lifted her over the gunwale and told her to get down to the water quietly. He jumped beside her, and used a remnant of the Interceptor's mast that had not yet been cleaned away to dive without a sound.

The island was less than one and a half mile from the ship, and along with carrying a sword and a heavy gun, he had to help her keep her head out of the water. After a few minutes, they heard a gunshot coming from the ship and a faint scream – sounded like Kurt had finally shot the boy somewhere in the shoulder or leg if the shouts coming from the Pearl were to be believed. Then, Barbossa noticed they were gone and had them search the ship. They quickly found the dress and started searching in their direction. One of the men with a looking glass saw them and some started shooting, but they were already far enough to be safe.

Slowly, the Pearl turned around, and from the looks of it, made aim for the Isla de la Muerta.

The girl squealed _again_ and started moving toward the ship. He quickly caught her back and pushed her toward the island. Luckily, she was too panicked with the fact that she was in deep waters to protest too much, and went on. He felt a small spark of relief. Who knew what could be lurking in the water beneath them ? He knew the Isla de la Muerta was a breeding site for hammerheads, so there were bound to be some here.

However, as soon as she set foot on sand and was able to stand, she started again. « Do you have no shame ? Abandoning your crew like this ? And now - » Oh, how he wished he were cruel enough to rip her tongue out of here throat. Maybe she'd get a parrot, like that of Mr Cotton, and she would be easier to silence. He turned around just in time to see the Pearl disappearing in a wift of mist – again. The view was strangely familiar. He turned around. Yep, that was it. Kurt had definitely meant the theatrical masterpiece. Now, if he could find that cache again…He was certain they had not taken everything. If his memory were right, both of the reserve they had and the quantity they could fit in the 'Dancing Nut', they must have had quite a few bottles remaining. Meanwhile, the girl was still speaking her tongue out. If she kept opening her mouth like this, she'd give it an opportunity to fly away. Hope never dies, he supposed.

Kurt had once explained how to find the cache he had stumbled upon per mistake. He found a palm tree with a small 'A' carved into the bark. The boy spoke the truth. Jack smiled. From the look of things, no one had stopped by in years. He counted as he stepped three times. Something ceaked under his feet. He jumped. It creaked again. How he loved that little squeaky sound.

The girl had followed him, and for the first time, he observed and detailed her form. She was not an unfortunate looking girl, that was for sure, a bit on the thin side, maybe. She had an agreable face, nice hair – he was not used to anyone being this clean – and large brown eyes. He supposed she went well with the whelp. She lacked a bit in the chest area to be completely to his taste.

He brushed away some sand with the flat of his hand and found the thick hoop fixated to the trap door.

« What are you doing anyway ? » Now _that_ for once was a sensible question he _could_ answer. She would learn when and how to speak and what to say. She would learn what questions would earn her a response and what question could get her killed – he would have done so already if she had not been even younger than Kurt. Jack too had been young, and he had not been embittered enough to despise young and foolish people. The girl was rich, noble and had been raised as such. She even was suprinsingly strong, to have lived through an abduction, two pirate raids, and two miles in freezing and dangerous waters.

« Aye, I've stayed on this island a few days after me crew mutiny'd on me. T'was used by smugglers as hide out. They're ou' of business now.

-You've been here before ? Then you know how we could get away ! How did you do the last time ? Did you build a ship ? Or… » She was getting carried away, and Jack was a bit embarassed to reveal how he had been rescued – very much like a damsel in distress – by the crew of the Dancing Nut.

« Las' time I stay'd here a grand total of two days. Kurt's people found me here and got me off the island. »

She was struck silent for a few minutes and Jack gave himself a congratulating pat on the shoulder as he got two bottles of rum out of the impressive stack still stored in the cache. If anything, they would not die of thirst.

....

....

* * *

For info - I have been using that term for ages without ever asking myself the meaning - a mile (nautical) is worth 1852 meters. Impressive huh?

Have a nice holiday!!!!

Tozi


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